Until The End
by ErysElizabeth
Summary: "The panic began to slowly make itself a home as dead weight in the pit of my stomach, curled up in a deep pocket, settling in as he retreated after his last kiss. I was not braced for the inevitable goodbye. I would never be ready. No amount of time could ever prepare me for this moment." Warning: Spoilers for all routes
1. Goodbye

"I love you," Saeyoung says. We are standing by the front door to the bunker, his duffel bag hanging from one arm and me hanging from the other. He is leaving. This will be the first time we spend apart since so many months ago, when we were reunited with Saeran, and finally together at last. How many days has it been now? I can't be sure. Saeyoung makes the time pass like seconds.

"I love you," he says again, one of his hands now in my hair, his fingers grouping together strands to entangle themselves in, and I melt into his touch. A touch that I absolutely took for granted even in all the time we had been together. Every spot that he comes in contact with becomes engulfed in flames. His eyes wander from my own distractedly, intrigued by his fingers intertwining with locks of my hair. I close my eyes and marvel at the feeling of his hands on me, however soft, however innocent.

They flutter open as Saeyoung's lips brush against the very edge of my mouth. I sigh, almost contently. He rests his forehead on mine, and we breath in each other's air. I have to fight with my lungs to work properly; they are threatening to fully cease functioning at any moment. My heart on the other hand, does the opposite, and accelerates well beyond overdrive; however, it too is seemingly prepared to stop abruptly by overworking itself to the point where it just doesn't work anymore. He has to feel my bounding pulse in such close proximity, and if he can't feel it, he definitely hears it. It's deafening in my ears. It is the only sound in the world.

No, that isn't right. The only sound in the world is Saeyoung's somehow imperturbable breathing. He's still here. And we are the only two people in the world. I feel his bag drop to the floor beside me. His hands snake up my hips and settle under my shirt, a feather-light touch against my lower back. His skin on mine. I don't know how long we stand like this; I am far too mesmerized by the heat emanating from his body, and our contiguity. We exist only to each other.

Here I stand, in the hardest moment of my life, before the only man I've ever loved. The man that is my home. The first breath after drowning. The sun after living in the dark for so long. An uncomfortable unease stirs deep in my core: knowing that there is not a guarantee that he will return home to me in one piece, alive, is consuming me.

But this is an unreasonable, irrational fear… right?

He's about to leave. He has no choice, or they'd come after us. He is going to some place, with some agenda, on some mission. All details are unbeknownst to both of us, except for an inescapable fate regardless: the possibility of a bad outcome.

And this possibility, however slight, is plaguing me. The fact that there is a possibility at all is not okay. My hazel eyes bear into his honey-colored ones, and I know that my fear is not arbitrary in the slightest. There's more than a possibility – there is a likelihood. Looking at Saeyoung is all it takes to reinforce that. This is something that can't be distinguished from an indifferent gaze unless you have stared into a pair of eyes as much as I did his. Very subtly, his eyes shift, and they cloud over with the same incomprehensible fears that I feel.

There is one way in which we are polar opposites: Saeyoung is much more composed and reserved than I could ever dream of being. I'm an open book, too vulnerable; I feel very easily, and express it very easily. A sudden itch pricks at my nose and my eyes, a telltale sign that tears are potentially forming. _No, no, no_. I told myself that I would not cry. But his eyes suddenly become particularly shiny, and we simultaneously break eye contact. And at this moment, we are one and the same.

In one swift movement, my body is pressed up against his, and my face naturally nestles into the crook of his collarbone, his head in my hair. This is it… _deep breath_. This is it. I fail miserably at the deep breath; instead, my respirations quicken, bordering dangerously on the edge of anxiety. Focus. _Focus_. I cannot hyperventilate. Not now. I cannot forget how to breathe in this moment that he needs me to be strong, more than he ever has. My heart thumps against my ribcage, obnoxiously loud, threatening to burst out of its confinement. My whole body briefly floods with warmth, and then everything goes ice cold. Trembling in his arms, I know that I will lose my composure at any second. "I love you." His whisper is as soft as the breath that grazes my scalp.

Saeyoung pulls away to press his forehead to mine again, his eyes closed this time. I inhale his scent, breathing him in, memorizing the texture of his face and the heat wafting from it. He adjusts his positioning, ever so slightly, and his lips touch mine. It's gentle, our lips parted slightly, and my tongue tingles at the salty-sweet taste of Honey Buddha Chips on him. He draws back by a fraction of an inch, and my breathing hitches.

He kisses me again, once. "I love you."

Twice. "I love you."

Three times. "I love you."

And then the panic begins to slowly make itself a home as dead weight in the pit of my stomach, curled up in a deep pocket, settling in as he retreats after his last kiss. I'm not braced for the inevitable goodbye. I will never be ready. No amount of time could ever prepare me for this moment.

Slowly our bodies separate, and every centimeter of space between us is agonizing. Not letting go of my hand, Saeyoung reaches down to pick up his bag off the ground, and slings it back over his shoulder. I wince, reality slapping me in the face. He smiles sadly down at me, and a crippling pain rips through my core, expanding forever outward.

"I love you," he says, and it's the most obvious thing in the world.

My panic is now borderline hysteria, unfathomable, and I silently plead with him one last time, throwing everything I know at him: the desperate clinging to his arm, the infallible puppy dog eyes, the unequivocal telepathy that we have developed. But I know deep down that it's all in vain, and he knows it, too.

"I love you too," I finally manage to choke out. My voice comes in a hoarse whisper, but I hurriedly spew out a frenzied slew of words, like I will never speak again. "I would tell you to do your best, but you know and I know, that your best is more than enough. All I can ask is for you to be safe. Please be safe and come back home to me. To me… to Saeran. We need you." My hand shakily squeezes his as tightly as it can, and I bring it to my lips, planting kisses all over it. "I love you. I love you more than anything in the universe," I speak into his hand, my lips shaping themselves over and around each curve, each finger, leaving my mark there for as long as it will linger.

"I love you." I look up at him one last time, holding his hand to my cheek like it's illegal to let go, until, eventually, a lifetime later, we release each other. This moment is unparalleled in the sense of the impossible; it stops time.

And time only resumes when he delicately caresses the side of my face that I'd just held his hand against, and I gravitate into his tender touch.

"Wait for me," Saeyoung says, barely more audible than the gentlest whisper. But still, his voice breaks. And I do too. My face is still tingling. And then he is gone.


	2. Cyan

_Hand in hand, Saeyoung and I strolled through the courtyard in the center of the hospital grounds. Naturally, Jumin had referred us to – and paid for – the best hospital in the country. Just as naturally, it was breathtakingly beautiful. We had just finished Saeyoung's weekly physical therapy appointment._

 _And weekly visit with Saeran. Unfortunately, he had been asleep the entire time – or at least, he pretended to be. Saeran never spoke to us. Hell, he never even acknowledged that we were there. When he was awake, he spent every moment idly gazing out the window. His room was on the top floor, with a view overlooking the city and felt as though it was sitting in the clouds. Even though his expression always remained indifferent, there was an air of contentment in the room whenever he watched the clouds drift by in the cyan sky._

 _Saeyoung came to a halt before the fountain, and released my hand to perch himself on the edge of it. I watched him follow the pattern of swirls in the water, around and around, around and around. My heart swelled with admiration as I recognized the same face he wore whenever he was concentrating on something. Our relationship was still fresh, and very new to both of us. His prominent red hair glinted with a hint of russet at this angle under the sunlight, also bringing to life a very light dusting of freckles across his skin. He was beautiful._

 _Basking in my appreciation of this man before me was soon lost in favor of him tugging on my arm, looking up at me. I sat down beside him. I knew he was deep in thought about something, but I also knew not to pry. He was always preoccupied with thoughts lately, and understandably so. Jumin had also recommended a therapist to him, but Saeyoung insisted it was not necessary._

 _I continued to watch him expectantly, waiting for him to speak without the pressure of my probing. I could be relentless. I could be convincing. But whatever he was itching to say would eventually be conveyed in the right words once he formed them properly, and was ready to speak._

 _I had just begun to relax, my chin resting on his shoulder, when he finally spoke in a shaky voice. His words startled me in my absentminded state._

" _Wh-what did you just say?" I asked, not trusting my sense of hearing in my stupor. The confirmation was necessary. I tended to drown out sounds that did not have my undivided attention._

 _Saeyoung cleared his throat, this time his eyes beseeching mine. We stared at each other for an indefinite amount of time until he spoke again, in a much more confident voice than before. My eyes trailed to his lips, watching them wrap around the words that slipped past them, just to be certain. "Move in with me."_

 _The world stopped spinning. My eyes widened in bewilderment. Yup, I had heard correctly the first time. My mind flooded with thoughts, outweighing the pros and cons of this proposition without my urging it to._

 _Could I live with Saeyoung? We were pretty content in our current arrangement; I did not live very far from him as it was. We saw each other every single day. But could I… live with him?_

 _This upcoming fall, I would be starting grad school, and the panicky, existential crisis student in me was raring to reemerge. I had just graduated from university with my nursing degree, and all my life told myself I would take it as far as I possibly could. My dreams had no limits. Most importantly, I couldn't afford any distractions. Sure, at home, Saeyoung was usually entirely absorbed in something or other, work related, and that was fine. But when he wasn't working, he was hyperactive, true to the 707 character I was initially introduced to. And he was snuggly, clingy, affectionately adorable – which I loved. But I had only been exposed to it for a couple of weeks: and I had been on break from college the entire time. I wasn't sure to what extent I could handle it once school required my undivided attention again. I had never been so seriously invested in something or someone else throughout my entire education. This thought instilled a slightly nagging discomfort in me._

 _Aside from that, I had heard horror stories from friends about significant others that moved in together, specifically before marriage; how they got sick of each other quickly, how the relationships fell apart. I didn't want to think about that. The notion alone pained me so much that I went numb. It had been less than a month, but I already knew, with absolute certainty, that I could not live without this man. So I should trust in our relationship, right? That meant that I should be able to_ live _with him, right? I wanted to be with him every second… right?_

 _And then my mind wandered back to his… snuggly… clingy… affectionately adorable self, and the prior discomfort before was forgotten to the warmth that filled me. Unending hugs and kisses. Falling asleep in his arms. Waking up in the middle of the night with him beside me, waking up to that face, and tousled mop of red hair… every single day. Could we beat the system? Could this solidify our relationship, offer a sense of security that was nonexistent before?_

 _I thought of home: the airy, light apartment, walls and tiled floor all white, and filled with dark wood and leather furniture. It had a very clinical, clean feel. It was in Jumin's building, decorated to the tastes of him and his designers. Not mine. It wasn't me. I barely ever touched anything in the kitchen, made up of white granite counter tops and stainless steel everything, afraid to taint it with a single fingerprint, even though Jumin sent the maids to me daily. The maids... I chuckled. I'd never had a maid in my life, and never thought for a moment I would ever want or need one._

 _And then I thought of what could be home: Saeyoung's bunker. Decorated with Honey Buddha Chip bags and the contents of several toolboxes and computer parts and endless articles of clothing, all scattered across the floor. The kitchen and its bare cupboards that I could fill and make my own, preparing meals for two every single day. The messes that I would have to clean, all by myself. No maid in sight. Was this me?_

 _I bit my lip. I was at a crossroads. And then suddenly... at the forefront of my brain, dominating every single thought and daydream and memory, was Saeyoung's face. He was just... there. He existed, and he was mine. Everything else long forgotten, I knew everything that I needed to know._

" _Yes," I answered at last._

 _His reaction came in slow motion, and then all at once. The next thing I knew, I was yanked up – pretty viciously for someone who only had half the strength in his dominant arm – and lifted off the ground. Saeyoung had swept me off my feet, any sounds he was making muffled by my chest, where his face was buried. And then he was swinging me around in a circle on the spot, his head thrown back. And out of his mouth came the sound that ascertained I had made the right choice._

 _Saeyoung's laughter started as a subtle rumble in his chest. It rippled through him, vibrating his body, starting in his core and rising in his throat until finally it was released. It was a delicious sound, echoing in the air around our heads. It reverberated as we spun, filling the courtyard, bouncing off the walls of the hospital, resoundingly shouted to the cyan heavens. His arms tightened around me securely in the sense I had hoped for from him. This moment was eternal._

The bunker is eerily quiet without Saeyoung. I miss the clacking of keys and clicking of his mouse. I miss the exasperated groans and frustrated grunts. I miss the crinkling of chip bags, and the pop and hiss of soda cans being opened. I miss his high-pitched, off-key singing, the subsequent _oomph_ escaping from his lips as I whack him playfully with a pillow, and the laugh that ensues. God, I miss his laugh most of all. The sound fills every void that has ever existed, and the void that I feel now is impossibly expansive.

I know I have to keep myself busy, otherwise I will mope, and I don't mope. There are plenty of things to do… I think. I fold several loads of laundry. I scrub down the shower and tub. I rearrange the kitchen cabinets. I alphabetize the bookshelf. I'm about to open the sock drawer and organize them by color when I stop. I have never matched my socks in my life, never mind sorted them by color. I know I'm reaching, and I sink into the couch, defeated.

It's twilight. The sun is casting an orange glow over every surface in our living room. This is my favorite time of day. It's when Saeyoung and I would settle down after a long day; his normally consisting of work, and mine normally consisting of studying for the boards that I was preparing to take to become a licensed nurse, and eventually get a job in the field.

I realize I have not looked at any study materials all day. I wander over to Saeyoung's computer room; our computer room. I have my own desk in there now, littered with notes and textbooks, taking up the entire length of the wall opposite his. We installed it the day after I moved in. Saeyoung had also insisted on installing a brand-new, top of the line desktop computer with four monitors, despite my protests, having bought a laptop just a few months prior. But he is just as stubborn as I am. And so I had a new setup. When we were both in here, we lost ourselves in our work. This was an unspoken agreement between us.

My fingertips lightly traced across the surface of Saeyoung's desk, brushing over the keys that he had touched only hours prior. I notice his hoodie is thrown haphazardly over the back of his computer chair. I lift in to my face, pleased to find that it still contains traces of his scent. I find comfort in this, wrapping it tightly around my shoulders, my eyes drifting close as I breathe him in.

I'm roused from my trance at the sound of a loud beep, signaling that the door to the bunker is opening, allowing entry to someone. And so it does with a mechanical creak. My heart stops at the sight of the back of someone's head, topped with distinct, bright red hair. The door slams closed. I hold my breath in a bout of wishful thinking. I can't help the mild twinge of disappointment when he turns around, and I'm greeted with cyan eyes instead of gold.


	3. Selfish

_"I know I'm asking this of you very suddenly, and it's a lot to take in all at once," Saeyoung said. He had come over to my apartment to watch me attentively as I danced around, packing up my things. I had agreed mere days earlier to move in with him. But the skip to my step quickly vanished at his latest proposition. Saeyoung had always kept me on my toes, endlessly catching me by surprise: it was one of the many things I loved about him. But this… this was beyond any comprehension I was capable of, especially now._

 _I paused at my sock drawer, gazing down into it absentmindedly. I never matched my socks. I couldn't be bothered; this was evident in the mess that was before me. Ugh. Distractions. I pulled the drawer from its track and dumped it into the box I was currently packing, containing various other undergarments. I tried to concentrate harder on what Saeyoung had just said to me, and suddenly packing became busy work, attempting to further distract me from my thoughts. I never spoke, but he didn't either. His eyes simply followed me around the apartment, as I collected this and that, boxing it up appropriately._

 _Every so often I would glance at him, but looked away before he caught me. Each time, I pinpointed another detail on him that made me feel even more uneasy. The angry red laceration above his right eye, stitched together. His skin painted different shades of yellow and purple and blue: the bruises on every visible surface of his skin, all in various stages of healing. The ankle that was securely wrapped in a brace, having been popped out of place sometime amidst running away. The arm that still hung in a sling from when he had been_ shot _. I was surprised that this thought came out in an angry sputter, the mouth of my brain not quite being able to form the word without a bitter aftertaste._

 _But he was alive. That was all that mattered, right? That was all I cared about. I couldn't live without him. I bit my lip, considering what he had said to me once again. An unpleasant shiver dominated my body, but only I felt this; my face revealed nothing._

 _Eventually, I had nothing left to pack, and I could no longer use it as an excuse to avoid him and his proposal. He had been sitting patiently on my bed the entire time. I lowered myself down next to him. I couldn't meet his eyes, but I touched my hand to his._

 _"I know what you must be thinking, how you must be feeling," he started again gently, but I interrupted him immediately with a fierce shake of my head. He stopped talking instantly, and finally we made eye contact. His golden eyes regarded me sadly._

 _"Actually," I said, "I'm not sure you do." His expression was puzzled, but he waited for me to continue. "Do you think I'm afraid of him?" Silence. More confusion._

 _"I am more concerned about what happened to you than I am for myself," I finally admitted. "I'm not afraid." Saeyoung opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't give him the chance. "I don't want to say I 'understand', but I... well, I understand," I elaborated, however vaguely. "What I mean is, I understand the circumstances. Think about the state of mind that he was in, the influence of drugs on his body... amongst other things." I could get away with vagueness here. These details were better left unsaid. "We can't pretend to be inside of his head, Saeyoung. We don't know exactly what happened, we don't know what he thought, or what he's currently thinking, or feeling." I looked down at his hand, and traced a couple of light scars on his fingers. "But just because I'm being openminded doesn't mean that I won't always be wary, overly cautious. It's human nature. I don't think that will change." I rested my head against his shoulder, and found that he was trembling. "I worry, because I don't know what I would ever do if I lost you. I came way too close, and I never want to be there again. It will always be that way."_

 _I drew back, and Saeyoung was watching me intently... maybe trying to comprehend, to see it like I did. His expression didn't give anything away. "The bottom line, Saeyoung, is that he is your brother," I stated, choosing my words carefully. "He is now a very significant part of your life, and that makes him a part of mine too. Let's do whatever it takes." He responded with nothing by a gentle squeeze of my hand, and that said everything he needed to say._

The presence of another person is welcoming and comforting, after being alone with my thoughts for most of the day. Under normal circumstances, I didn't mind in the slightest, being my own company. But today had been especially difficult.

"Saeran," I greet him warmly, approaching him as he wiggles out of his jacket. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was windswept, a surefire indication that he had been driving with either the windows open, or the top down. Sure enough, with a clatter, a pair of car keys fall from his hand and onto the end table by the door. I ignore the dull pang that works its way through me as I recognize the keys as belonging to one of Saeyoung's convertibles, and shake my head at myself. I'm pathetic. "How was your drive?" Driving mindlessly was a favorite pastime of Saeran's. This was an unspoken yet obvious fact. It was on the list of similarities between the brothers that were gradually becoming more numerous and apparent.

"It was fine," Saeran says matter-of-factly, his eyes sweeping the entirety of the too-clean apartment. His brow furrows ever so slightly. He's noticed. "Where's that idiot brother of mine?"

"Oh…" My voice trails off, along with my eyes, looking anywhere but at him. Apprehension dawns on me. He doesn't seem to remember. "He, uh. Today was the day." Saeran regards me with a hint of puzzlement in an otherwise blank expression. I puff my cheeks out, and expel air in obvious distress. "Um. He left this morning." I glance up at Saeran through my bangs, watching as it clicks, and something else – Regret? Melancholy? – flashes across his face.

"That… was today?" Saeran's hand flies to his hair, running his fingers through it, catching in the tangles caused by the wind. Is his hand shaking? "Fuck… fuck," Saeran swears, and I'm taken aback by the sudden profanities. He and Saeyoung are constantly bantering, and Saeran always reciprocates with playful name-calling. But that's all it is: teasing. So I'm surprised whenever he curses, as it's particularly out of character for him. He mutters something else under his breath, frustrated, something I can't hear. He glances up and catches my lingering expression, and his face softens slightly, but he looks sheepish. "I just… I kind of wanted to be here." He looks away uncomfortably. "To say goodbye," he admits. His face a shade paler than it was before. My realization then is abrupt: I am selfish. I was never alone. I am not the only one potentially losing the most important person to me. He is too.


	4. Breakthrough

_Saeran spent the vast majority of his time in isolation. He was content, if nothing else, in solitude, avoiding reality, steering clear of his brother and that... woman. There were distasteful memories tied to her existence. The worst part? She was actually sickly sweet, eternally cheerful, with a singsong voice that made you want to listen. Except he didn't want to listen. He didn't care. He wanted to be alone._

 _Today, though, on a particularly sweltering July day, his room was too stuffy and uncomfortable to quarantine himself in. He was tucked away inconspicuously in a corner of the living room, keeping a safe distance, hiding behind his laptop. Sometimes Saeyoung gave him simple jobs to fiddle around with, well beneath the caliber of his capabilities, but they were a welcome distraction. It kept his hands and mind busy._

 _And then she was there. Over the top of the laptop, Saeran watched her dart around the bunker with narrowed eyes. She flitted from place to place like a bird: from the bedroom, donned in one of her ostentatious, colorful sweaters; to the kitchen, disposing of the remnants of Saeyoung's hasty lunch preparation; to the bathroom, arms full of cleaning products, a determined look plastered on her face. In between every action, and whenever she got the chance, she popped into Saeyoung's computer room, peppering little kisses on him or bending over his shoulder, whispering something in his ear as she pulled his headphones aside. The ghost of a smile never left his lips, and sometimes he leaned back into her touch. All the while his fingers never stopped typing furiously; his concentration never dwindled. Interesting._

 _When he finally took a break, he accompanied her to the kitchen. There, she sported a ruffly pink apron, her long hair piled messily on top of her head. She rummaged through a drawer. Poked her head in the refrigerator or cupboard. Stirred something on the stovetop. They prepared dinner together, moving in synchrony, not unlike two people that knew each other very well, and for a very long time; there were elusive brushes up against one another, shy smiles shot across the room, the occasional kiss on the cheek or top of the head. Their cheeks were even tinged the same rosy shade._

 _Saeran was so engrossed in the details that his trance was only broken when she appeared before him, waving a hand playfully in front of his eyes. When he snapped out of his stupor, she was smiling at him. The kind of smile that touched her eyes. She had a dimple in her right cheek._

 _"Welcome back to Earth," she said with a giggle that rang like a bell, and he could only stare at her. She was teasing him, true to character, and he had no idea how to react. But the brightness in her eyes never faltered, not even for a second, even when he met them with what he could only imagine was an icy, callous glare._

 _"I made beef stew for dinner," she said. Oh, she was talking again. Saeran cocked his head, regarding her indifferently. "It's a recipe I learned and tweaked during my time in America. One of my friends that I met there, she went to culinary school and taught it to me, along with many others," she continued. Was she rambling? Being friendly? He gazed at her fixedly, taciturn. "I promise it's edible," she said brightly. Jokes. Hmph. He nearly snorted, but caught himself. He thought he noticed her lips purse, very, very slightly, imperceptible had he not been paying excessive attention to every detail of her face._

 _"Well, it's there if you would like some," she said simply, after a long pause. Defeated, she stood up. A dismissal from the conversation, but a kind-hearted offer at that. She returned to the kitchen without another word._

 _Huh. She hadn't probed. She made an attempt, but not an overbearing one, and was on her way. It was almost... refreshing, compared to Saeyoung and certain others. Saeyoung was… well, annoying was not even the word. He was relentless. Inexorable. And Yoosung was the same, but in a different way; he texted every single day, pushing a friendship that Saeran was 99% certain he couldn't be bothered with._

 _But this... This was strange. He had tried to kill this woman. It all began with her benevolent act toward a stranger. He was cruel, and he tricked her. Her innocent, harmless, vulnerable self. He broke into somewhere that was supposed to be safe for her, tried to whisk her away to somewhere that would have definitely harmed the pretty little hairs on her head._

 _Pretty? Saeran dismissed the thought before his brain had even finished conjuring it. But he continued to observe her, and her fluid movements around the kitchen. She was always keeping busy. She began to clean up the mess she and Saeyoung had made – who, of course, had retreated back to his computer room, a steaming bowl and Dr. Pepper in tow. She was too good for him. Or maybe she was perfect for him, just the kind of person he needed in his life. Saeran scowled at the next thought that popped into his head, and got to his feet with a huff._

 _"Oh!" She jumped about a foot in the air, her hand flying to her chest, and he very nearly chuckled. So absorbed in the task of washing dishes, he had startled her, coming up behind her unexpectedly. "What's up, Saeran?" She bounced back quickly from the shock, and beamed up at him. That damn face-scrunching smile. That damn dimple._

 _Staring intently at a spot on the ground that suddenly became fascinating, Saeran remained reticent. Her smile lingered, unwavering, until she turned around and continued washing the dishes._

 _If he hadn't surprised her before, he absolutely did now: reaching out, he took the plate she had just finished rinsing, and began to dry it meticulously. Her eyes widened by a very minuscule fraction, but he ignored any reaction that he had fostered, continuing with his fastidious behavior as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. Still, he was hyperaware of her sideways glances at him, and that persistent, cheeky smile of hers._

 _And then they were finished. "Thank you," she said softly, and they made fleeting eye contact. As soon as it happened it was over, and she scuttled off to her own corner of Saeyoung's computer room._

 _Saeran exhaled sharply, a breath he did not even realize he had been holding._

Saeran and I coexist in equanimity. Who we each love the most just happens to be the same person. The three of us had found a comfortable rhythm as apart of each other's lives, and fell into it. Every so often, Saeran would interject with yet another sarcastic remark, or react a little more than just smirk at a joke that one of us made. It was progress. Our lives were by no means perfect yet, nor were we at the place we would ultimately stay. But Saeran was opening up at his own pace. It was better without the poking and prodding. He would break free of his comfort zone in due time.

I feel as though I am finally glimpsing past the wall Saeran keeps himself heavily guarded with. For the first time ever, he and I are on the same page. This sensation is unfamiliar and foreign to me.

He's not looking at me; instead, he's fiddling with his fingers, clawing at his nails. I recognize the nervous habit immediately, and make a mental note of yet another similarity to add to the list. I don't spend enough time with Saeran alone to familiarize myself with his habits as I am now, but recent happenings have made me acutely cognizant.

He's still fidgeting. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and delicately place my hand over his. He freezes. Immediately, I kick myself, thinking that I've crossed a line. Of course I have. What possessed me to think that he would want me to touch him? I'm ready to withdraw my hand when I am staggered to see that instead, he visibly relaxes; tension seems to evaporate from him almost instantly. I realize that this is the first time since we started living together that I've made physical contact with him. His hands are warm, and surprisingly smooth.

Saeran is the first to pull away, but he doesn't seem to do it because he feels uncomfortable or unnerved, or so I assume. He saunters into the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards, and we reconvene there. We busy ourselves making dinner in our usual comfortable silence, when our arms unexpectedly graze one another's. This startles even me, as he is always very careful to ensure we never touch. My earlier assumption is proven to be correct when he doesn't even flinch, or suddenly jerk back with the contact, as he has every single time in the past.

I carry my plate to sit where I normally do, when he surprises me a third time: rather than sulk off to his room like any other night, he sits across from me at the table. I'm gaping at him when he looks up, and my cheeks are aflame. Silence rings in the air between us, but neither of us break eye contact, or say anything at all. I'm about to avert my gaze when he gives me a curt nod, and a knowing guise, before bending over his plate and hiding behind the hair that falls in front of his eyes.


End file.
